Silver Memories
by leaysaye
Summary: When Thomas finds out that Richard doesn't live at the palace he decides to call him - but gets more than he bargained for. - This story isn't as fluffy and sweet as we'd like. It was inspired by a deleted scene that has been talked about by the producers and that gives Richard and Thomas a less than happy ending (spoilers).
1. Chapter 1

The night after the royal party's departure, Thomas couldn't sleep. They didn't get to bed until the early hours, when the family had returned from the ball at Harewood. When the last lights finally went out, it was so quiet, you could've heard a pin drop.

Having the extra servants staying for a couple of days had brought back times gone by when Downton Abbey had boasted a full staff compliment. Thomas rarely gave the spare rooms in the attic a thought, but tonight, he felt the lonely emptiness. Turning over in bed, he closed his eyes, trying to visualise the room two doors down from his chamber, where Richard had slept the last two nights.

He would be back in his own bed now, and as much as Thomas tried, he couldn't picture it. He'd not even thought to ask what the servants' lodgings were like at the palace. The rooms were probably a lot bigger than at the Abbey.

Thomas sighed and opened his eyes. It was no use. He couldn't sleep. He sat up and reached for the bedside lamp.

The silver pendant Richard had given him lay on the book he'd tried reading before bed. The sight of it made Thomas smile. He remembered every moment of those minutes in his pantry. The way Richard's eyes lit up before he kissed him. The way his fingers felt when he handed Thomas the keepsake. The tenderness in his voice. The softness of his mouth.

Thomas picked up the pendant and held it to his lips. When he closed his eyes he could hear Richard's words again. _It's not much, but I've had it for years. It'll remind you of me. That's the point, isn't it? So you can think of me till we meet again?_

Sliding back under the covers, Thomas's hand travelled under the counterpane. Pushing his fingers past the elastic on his pyjama bottoms felt wild and risqué while he clutched the pendant with his other hand.

He'd never had anything so dear to hold on to, and after the release came, the memory of Richard put him to sleep at last.

The first letter from Richard arrived three days later. It was short, and rather tentative, full of day-to-day minutiae that didn't matter and could be shared with anyone who happened to come upon the little scrap of paper. But Thomas read it again and again, hiding himself away during every quiet minute, caressing the words with eyes and fingertips, until the paper was soft and smooth. When he slipped the letter back into its envelope to hide it in the top drawer of his chest with the few letters he'd received over the last decade, he noticed the return address for the first time.

_21 Shepherd Street, Mayfair_

Lost in thought Thomas closed the drawer. He'd assumed Richard lived at the palace, but there had been no reason to assume so. Domestic staff increasingly lived away from the places of their employment. It seemed unusual for palace staff, but what did he know about how the royals organised their household?

And the discovery gave Thomas an idea. Over the next few days he tried very hard to resist temptation, but with every hour, it became more difficult. He wouldn't have dreamt of attempting it if had Richard lived at the palace, but now that Thomas knew that he did not, he couldn't fight the longing to pick up the telephone and speak to him.

It took another couple of days to work up the courage, and find a stretch of time when the others were occupied or away from the house, before he could put his plan into action. It was Sunday afternoon; Thomas had no idea if Richard would be at home, but it seemed a more likely time than first thing in the morning or late in the evening.

His heart threatening to burst right out of his chest, he closed the pantry door firmly, then settled himself behind his desk. His hands shook as he pulled the telephone closer.

But then he lowered the earpiece. He had no idea whether Richard even had a telephone. They were more common since the war, but still far from ubiquitous. A London residence might be more likely to be fitted with one than, say, a cottage in Downton village. And, if Thomas knew him at all, considering Richard's occupation he would probably have one installed as a priority. There was only one way to be certain.

Thomas raised the earpiece again. "Operator, could you please check if the following address has a listed number: Twenty-one Shepherd Street in Mayfair, London."

"One moment, sir." After a few crackly seconds the operator said, "I have a number here for a Mr. Richard Ellis. Would you like me to connect you?"

Thomas's heart jumped into his throat. He swallowed. "Yes, please."

While he waited, Thomas switched the earpiece from one sweaty hand to the other. At last there came a click. "Mayfair three-two-five-nine," a female voice said.

Where before his heart had been racing, it now seemed to have stopped. The most obvious inference threatened to overwhelm him, but Thomas refused to let it take hold. Surely, a perfectly innocent explanation would present itself at any moment.

The voice sounded too young to belong to Richard's mother, who, in any case, lived in York. It might be his sister. Richard was a busy man, someone had to keep house for him. Or maybe the operator had made a mistake.

"Hello?" the voice said when Thomas still hadn't spoken after several seconds.

"Yes…uh, hello. Could…could I speak to Richard, please?"

"Can I ask who's calling?"

"It's Thomas Barrow." The words came automatically before Thomas could stop himself. Before he lost his nerve, he added, "Who am I speaking to?"

"This is Lucy Ellis. Richard's wife."

Thomas dropped the earpiece into its cradle. Before the call disconnected he thought he heard her speak again. He didn't care.

Folding his trembling hands on the desk before him he sat, staring into nothingness.

Richard was married.


	2. Chapter 2

To claim the next week was like traversing a nightmare would have been an understatement. Each day felt like it was filled with treacle in which he would get stuck for hours at a time, trying to breathe past the open wound.

His altered frame of mind did not go unnoticed. Becoming butler nearly two years ago had prompted Thomas to take a long, hard look at himself, and he hadn't liked what he saw. So he had committed himself to trying to be a better man. On the whole, he thought he'd done quite well. He got on a lot better with his fellow servants, and no longer felt alienated in the halls of Downton.

So it was no surprise when Mrs Hughes stopped him in the passageway a couple of days after the awful telephone call. "Mr Barrow, are you all right?" She kept her voice low, and her eyes assessed him kindly. "You haven't been yourself lately."

He forced a smile that made his face ache. "I'm perfectly all right, Mrs Hughes. Thank you." He sidestepped her before she could say more. Only when he'd closed the door of his pantry did he allow his shoulders to sag, and tears prick his eyes again.

Anna was in the hall when Richard arrived the following Saturday. Thomas sat behind his desk, ostensibly checking the wine ledger but in reality staring into nothing when he heard their voices outside his door.

"Oh, hello Mr Ellis. What a surprise to see you. Is Mr Barrow expecting you?"

Richard's voice was too low to make out the words, but it still went right through Thomas like a knife. He barely had enough time to rise from his chair, and nowhere long enough to find an escape route before there came a knock on the door.

Anna entered first. "Mr Ellis is here." Her gaze was searching. Thomas had the fleeting impression that she'd help him avoid seeing Richard if he gave any sign of wanting to do so. It was a tempting prospect only for a moment. He was here now, they might as well get on with it.

And he couldn't let this become a spectacle for the entire house to gossip about. So he nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Anna." His voice was creaky, as if he hadn't used it in days. That wasn't very far from the truth, either.

Seeing Richard was like a punch to the gut. Thomas focused on breathing normally, willing his face to remain expressionless. He couldn't make out Richard's face as everything swam before his eyes.

"Mr Ellis, are you staying the night." Anna's voice pierced the charged atmosphere. "Only, I better tell Mrs Hughes, and Mrs Patmore if there's one more for dinner."

Richard's eyes never left Thomas. "If I'm welcome, I'll stay."

Thomas couldn't see a way of declining without giving the servants a new reason for gossiping. So he nodded. "Of course." He was surprise that his voice sounded normal.

Anna nodded and withdrew. Thomas stood rooted to the spot. Richard's gaze was still on him, but he, too, stayed silent. But it was him who broke the standoff at last. "I came as soon as I could get away."

"Why are you here?" Now his voice more accurately reflected his inner turmoil.

"To apologise, of course." Richard took a step into the room. His face showed contrition. "I'm so sorry, Thomas."

To his deep surprise, Thomas instantly believed his sincerity. Despite what had happened, his instincts told him that Richard truly felt the pain. And he'd come in the flesh to say sorry. That had to mean something. If he didn't care he could've just ignored the whole thing.

An exhaustion so sudden and absolute it made Thomas's knees buckle forced him back into his chair. "Why, Richard?"

And Richard did something totally unexpected. He took the chair that sat before the desk around to the side so he could sit close to Thomas.

Thomas stared. To his knowledge, that chair had never been moved before.

Without touching, Richard leaned close. "I should've told you. There's no excuse for not being upfront." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm so sorry," he said again.

Before Thomas could reply, there came a knock on the door. Richard was on his feet and the chair back in its place within seconds. Thomas leaned back, putting even more distance between them. But it still took another few seconds before the door opened.

Andrew appeared. His face was red, and Thomas wondered whether Anna had warned him to be mindful. "Mr Barrow, I'm sorry to disturb you. But Lord Grantham was wondering whether you'd forgotten about going through the wine order?"

Thomas jumped to his feet. "Right you are." He snatched up the ledger, gave Richard a furtive glance and hurried from the room without another word. He cursed himself silently.

Now he'd have to contend with a reprimand from His Lordship on top of everything else. But at least that would distract him nicely from the confusion Richard's appearance had caused him.

It was easy enough to avoid Richard until the servants' dinner. Thomas stayed above stairs until after the family had finished in the dining room. He'd hoped that would help him collect his thoughts, but his mind was blank. He couldn't decide what he felt about Richard's appearance. There was a constant hollow ache in his gut and he couldn't get his mind away from the thought of Richard downstairs, or more likely in the attic, whiling away the hours until dinner. Thomas wanted to be furious, and he was, but there was also the other side of the coin.

Yes, Richard had a wife. But he'd come here to speak to him, and that had to count for something.

What was Richard planning? Had he been living like this before, a woman at home to give him the veneer of respectability, and away from her he kept one lover after the next? Or maybe several at the same time?

Over the last week, the other servants had become used to his silence at the dinner table. They chatted on, leaving him to shift his food around on his plate. Thomas was well aware of Richard's presence halfway down the table, throwing him a look every so often and saying very little to the inquisitive questions from the others. A servant from the palace certainly had their curiosity fired up.

Thomas couldn't stop his gaze wandering to him again and again. On a couple of occasions, their eyes met and his throat closed up, his belly doing an odd somersault. Barely a bite passed his lips, and he rose from the table after fifteen minutes with his supper mostly uneaten.

Once he'd made an excuse and was out of sight the scraping of chair legs indicated the rest of them had all resumed their seats. Or almost all.

"Thomas."

Despite everything, Thomas couldn't keep walking. Richard caught up with him at the bottom of the back stairs. "Please, Thomas. Can we talk?"

He wanted to tell Richard to go to hell. But instead, he nodded before he could stop himself.

"Can I come to your room, once everyone has gone to bed?"

"All right." Thomas had no idea why he'd said it, but he couldn't take it back, either.

Mrs Patmore appeared from the kitchen, carrying a pie and a jug. "I can't believe it!" She raised her arms. "Apple pie and custard, and you're not sticking around?"

Richard turned to her with his most irresistible smile. "Of course, Mrs Patmore." He gave a bow and she tittered, bustling into the servants' hall.

Richard followed her, throwing Thomas a long look before disappearing from sight.

For a moment, Thomas stood rooted to the spot. Then he turned and, taking two steps at a time, hurried up the stairs.

Even though Thomas had been waiting for it for at least an hour, the knock on his door still made him jump. It was hardly a rap; Richard seemed as keen as Thomas to keep a low profile.

Rather than call out, Thomas went to the door and eased it open. He was greeted by the sight of a furtive Richard, something he'd never seen before. Without a word, he stood aside to let Richard in.

They stood in awkward silence. That was new too. Even though they barely knew each other Thomas had already pegged Richard as someone who was rarely lost for words.

"So what have you come here to say, then?" It sounded both pathetic and hostile to his own ears, but Thomas couldn't bear it any longer. He needed closure, one way or the other.

Richard stared at him for a moment, anguished. When he spoke, his voice was raw, as if he'd been shouting for hours. "Do you remember what you said to me after I got you out of that police station? That you were glad to meet a man like yourself?"

Thomas nodded grudgingly. Why did Richard have to bring up that night? It had been one of the worst and one of the best of his life, and thinking about it hurt something fierce.

But he still had to hear whatever excuse Richard was going to make for his behaviour. "I'll never forget it." That sounded both like a confession, and a threat.

Richard winced. "Fair enough." He wrung his hands. "I can only imagine what terrors you must've felt while locked up in the nick. What I didn't tell you was that I was envious of you."

"Envious?" Thomas stared.

Richard nodded. "You were entirely innocent, Thomas. I watched your elation, your wide-eyed wonder, and I was so jealous. There was only one reason why you'd gone to that club. You had never experienced the dangers our kind face out there." He glanced around the room, the biggest one in the servants' quarters. "You're safe here, Thomas. In this house, you can be who you are and still be respected."

Thomas gave a snort. "Respected sure. If you want to be looked at askance at every meal. Called foul and depraved, and have the police called on you by a footman." And never, never find that one person who would stand with him, who would return his affection and make him feel loved. He swallowed hard. Nausea was closing off his throat.

"But they protected you, didn't they? You're the butler here, even though everyone knows your story. You have true friends here, and a position. You have love." Before Thomas could protest, Richard had stepped close, taking his hand. "There's more than one kind of love, Thomas. And you have it, in abundance." He looked away. "Nobody has ever loved me for who I really am. There's always a condition, always expectations to fulfil. As long as I pretend to be who they want me to be, they'll stick by me. But when I'm myself..." He rubbed his eyes, giving a shaky laugh. "I swear, I'm not trying to make excuses. I _know _how this looks. I didn't mean to deceive you. I didn't set out to hurt anyone—"

With a single step Thomas closed the space between them. He reached for Richard, took his face with both hands and kissed him. It wasn't even a conscious decision. If he'd been asked five minutes before if this would be a possible outcome of their conversation, he would've denied it vehemently.

But now, thoughts were no longer at the forefront of his mind. He'd heard Richard's words, but more, he'd felt his pain, and Thomas needed it to cease.

Richard gave a whimper of despair, fighting for a moment against Thomas's insistence, but then gave in. He pressed close, matching Thomas's fervour.

Time ceased to matter. Details flashed before them and were instantly replaced. Then heat of Richard's mouth. The feel of him when Thomas undid his fly and reached right inside. The first time their bare skin touched. The moment Richard's finger entered him. The sensation of being laid bare by the sights, the sounds, the smells of their union.

Afterwards, Richard lay in his arms, holding on so tightly Thomas knew he'd get bruises. There might have been a few tears towards the end, but he'd never make a mention of those.

"Does she know?" It was not the best time for that question, but he had to ask it now.

Richard was quiet for a long time. Then he shifted. When his gaze met Thomas's, the mix of emotions was dizzying. "You mean, are we re-enacting Oscar and Constance?" He laid his head back on Thomas's chest. "The truth is, I don't know. We've never talked about it." He was quiet for a while. "If the world was a better place, I would've never married her."

Thomas hugged him tighter. "I know that."

Richard buried his face against Thomas's shoulder. "So, is this it?" His words came muffled, as if he was afraid to hear his own thoughts out loud. "Will this be our first and only hurrah?"

There were an endless variety of replies, and Thomas was giddy with them. From within the spinning confusion in his mind he could only voice one. "Let's see how we go, all right?" Richard's hair tickled his cheek. He turned his head and kissed the crown of Richard's head, breathing in the already familiar scent. "Let's just see."


End file.
